Walking After Midnight
by Esse
Summary: The sorceress' dog had t' get his practise shepherding somewhere...


_ **Disclaimer:** One day, Esse shall run a company so vast it will swallow up Square Enix, and on that day, Esse Sqix, Incorporated will go back and change all her disclaimers, reflecting the new ownership of the characters. Until then, however, they stay the property of Square Enix, and Esse doesn't profit from their usage; a shame, since the extra income would certainly come in handy when buying out Square Enix._

_**Notes:** Little short something that takes place a few years before _Remainders_. Don't really need to've read that one t' understand this, though. I really don't *know* what a person would need t' understand this. I recommend severe sleep deprivation, followed by a sugar high -- and a few calls to your ISP for technical help. That should put you in the proper frame of mind._

_**Warnings:** Language. A fifteen year old Seifer being, of all things, mature. And a story that *would've* been full of psychobabble, if only Esse were a wee bit smarter._

~*~ ~*~ ~*~  
** Walking After Midnight **  
~*~ ~*~ ~*~ 

  


His steps did not echo, as he walked slowly down the tiled corridor. At most, his bare feet contributed a soft occasional scuffing that was quickly swallowed up in the silence that pervaded the Garden each night. It would have been better, perhaps, had his footsteps created some definite noise; something loud, something sharp and staccato; something that would jar him from the dreamland he wandered in at the same time he wandered the dormitory halls. 

Blind blue eyes took in what was before them, but failed to organize the sights into any cohesive whole. They searched for something they didn't know the shape of; his hands groped for something they wouldn't know the feel of. And he wept in frustration, as his fingernails scratched against the wall, searching for a door that his mind told him should be there, but that reality insisted was not. 

"Hyne, Chicken, not again." His steps did echo, as steel-toed boots came down in arrogant precision, but not as loudly as they would have had he not been weary; bone-tired from after-hours training that seemed to accomplish nothing more than the guaranteed souring of his mood for the next day. "How you're getting past the locks, when you can't even…" Seifer sighed, and slipped his hand around the other boy's elbow, gently turning him away from the wall. "C'mon, Chicken," he tugged, ever-so-gently so as not to startle the sleeper, "let's get you back to bed." 

Zell stumbled at the change of direction, then shuffled forward, his guide's shepherding completely unnoticed. Tears continued to fall from eyes gone sapphire brilliant as pupils contracted from light only they could perceive. "Out," he whispered plaintively. "I want out." 

"We all do. Problem is," and he pulled the shorter boy to a stop, as a door in front of them opened, "you'd be a lot better off, if you'd stay *in* your room. Leonhart," he acknowledged the chestnut-maned head peering inquisitively from behind the door. 

"Almasy." Squall blinked at the two blondes; one standing stiffly within the folds of his gray trench coat, the other staring about blankly, occasionally sniffling, and obviously cold in nothing more than his jump roping cactuar boxers, if the shivers wracking his frame were anything to go by. "How far did he make it this time?" 

"Almost out of the dormitory completely." He began walking again, a slight nudge enough to get the younger boy moving. "It was your turn to watch for him." 

"He must've snuck by; you're the first thing I've heard all night." Squall rubbed at his eyes, bringing attention to the shadowed skin underneath them. "…How is he getting past the locks?" 

"Beats the hell outta me. Little twerp has a hard enough time with them when he's awake." Seifer waved the brunette back when it appeared he was going to join them. "Get some sleep, Leonhart. Goddess knows you could use it. I'll get him back; much as he's been walking around, he should stay put for the rest of the night." 

"Try barricading the main door," Squall yawned, politely covering his mouth. "That should stop him." 

"Yeah, except I'd be stuck in there with him. I need the extra training." He shrugged, then winced as the gesture pulled at a whip weal gained earlier in the evening, courtesy of an exceptionally fast grat. "I'm thinkin' of trading rooms with Raijin. He has time t' put up with this shit." 

"Raijin wouldn't care." He pushed over-long bangs away from his face, then waved the blonde off cheerfully. "'Night, Almasy. Good luck on the quiz tomorrow." 

"…Fuck." He shook his head ruefully. "'Night, Leonhart." He heard the door close behind them, and quiet once again descended upon the hall. They turned a corner, and continued on until reaching the room they'd been assigned. 

The door to the common room was open; the locks he'd installed expertly bypassed. He led the shorter boy in, around the table covered in illegible notes and experiments in progress and meals partially eaten, and into the room on the left. Zell's room, decorated with a landscape painted by a Balamb friend in pastel oils, and various pictures of other Balambian acquaintances, and a quilt spread out on his bed painstakingly pieced together and stitched under his mother's expert tutelage. 

He ushered the boy to the bed, and settled him down on it, though he refrained, even in the confines of his own mind, from referring to it as tucking him in. He then left the room, partially closing the door behind him, and sat down at the table, the cuff of his coat catching a pile of notes and sending them drifting to the ground. His notes, the Chicken's notes, he didn't know; what once had been orderly and properly separated was now jumbled together in one vast, all-consuming mess. 

He thought that he could draw parallels to his own life, but he was tired, and aching, and not keen at all on self-examination. So he shook off his coat, and let it dangle from the high back of the wooden chair, and picked up the notes, and pondered on the strange circumstances that had led to the formerly empty room next to his own being assigned to an overactive, brash, Balambian brat who'd surely wash out within his first year of attending Garden. 

Not that he cared, he frowned at his reflection in a spotted glass at the far side of the table, its bottom sticky with the residue of orange juice left out to sit too long. Whatever Leonhart had implied. He'd *liked* his solitude, and the fear he'd engendered amongst the younger cadets. He'd never wanted a roommate; had made sure the faculty *knew* what he'd do if they ever dared saddle him with one. 

And he'd done it; fought with the Chicken; played cruel, belittling pranks on him, and mocked him often enough that others had started following his lead -- and he'd rejoiced in his imminent success in driving the other boy away, away from Garden and back to his mother's skirts. 

Only, coming back from training late one night, he'd come across the boy, wandering down the halls crying hysterically, whimpering that he wanted out -- completely asleep. Guilt ate at him as he helped the boy back to their rooms; a foreign emotion, one he had no idea how to handle. So he reigned in his harassment, and as the weeks passed, he began to notice something. 

It wasn't so bad, having a roommate. Someone to complain about the instructors to; someone more understanding than Raijin, more compassionate than Fujin. Someone he could help with homework he'd wrestled with a year before -- and he'd found it felt good, helping. He'd never before had the chance. 

But despite the wary, prickly friendship that was slowly growing between them, Zell still walked in his sleep. Leonhart had brought him back the next time, and a tentative partnership was formed with his rival, because he knew Squall was responsible, if cold -- and Dincht could really hurt himself, if he ever made it out of the dormitory. And for some reason Seifer couldn't fathom, Squall cared, too. Perhaps Leonhart had things to feel guilty about, as well. 

Maybe it was time to talk to Doctor Kadowaki. Maybe he should just confront the Chicken; tell him he'd been sleepwalking. Maybe… 

"Hey." 

He leaned back in the chair, and twisted his head, catching sight of Zell hovering in the doorway, looking somewhat puzzled. "Hey." 

"What're ya doin' up? Dontcha got a quiz tomorrow?" He squinted blearily at the clock mounted on the wall. "Umm, today." 

"I do." He let the front legs of the chair hit the floor, and stood. "Got carried away training, I guess." He began turning off lights, and relocking the door leading out to the hall. "Sorry if I woke you." He hesitated, then quickly slipped a miniature set of wind chimes over the doorknob -- just in case. "Sleep well, Chicken." 

"Yeah. 'Night, Seif." 

Maybe he'd wait a little longer; maybe he'd find a way of keeping the younger boy in their room. Maybe, if he worked at it hard enough, he'd find a way to mend whatever it was he had broken. He turned off the last of the lights, and removed his boots, and crept into his cold bed fully clothed. 

Just maybe… 

A half hour later -- a half hour spent staring up at his ceiling, searching for sleep that would not come -- he heard the wind chimes ring.  
  


endings 

_**Closing Notes:** Y' know, _Remainders_ had quite a back history, which I'd sorta wanted t' cover in _##holding##_; unfortunately -- the story seems to be doing exactly that, and it's starting t' look like I'll never finish it. However, there were certain scenes I've had plotted out that I really like -- and this is one of them. I had a few extra hours t'day -- and this is the one that got written. Can sorta stand on its own, so I'll let it :)_

_Yes, Seif and Zell were stuck in one of those double dormitory rooms before the game. Yes, they've been sharing that room since Zell was accepted into Garden. Yes, while this ficlette is perfectly innocuous, _Remainders_ most certainly isn't -- and Esse *is* a writer of shounen ai, and I do believe that is something that shows in everything I write, no matter how innocent. So, goodness, Yes! You probably *were* seeing things. But I didn't warn about it -- 'cause it wasn't actually supposed to be there._

_Huh. Anyway, hated it? Bully for you. Total waste of your time? Send Esse the bill, and she'll send you compensation just as soon as she's CEO of Esse Sqix, Inc. Maybe liked it, but aren't entirely sure? Me too. Have some peanut butter fudge; it'll make you feel better._


End file.
